Invisible and Alone
by Shiralala
Summary: One day you find a mysterious door you never noticed before. You open it... What happens next?


Based on a writing prompt our teacher gave watch?v=WijP7ZBTJVU

Chapter One- An Unforeseen Discovery

The door, I noted as I pushed it open, was heavy. I wondered absently what kind of tree it was made of, though of course I had no idea, not being knowledgeable about that subject. I peeked out and had to squint because of the change in light. It was noticeably darker in the room than the hallway. As I stared into the room, I was slowly able to make out objects- a chair, a table, a desk. I grinned, seeing a bean-bag chair, and walked into the room, intending to plop right into it. But when I stepped over the threshold, the room brightened considerably. I was a bit annoyed, as my eyes had to readjust, but the feeling turned to awe as I gazed around the room. Bookshelves, as tall as the ceiling (which might've been 12, 15, or 30 feet) were in lines, almost from wall to wall. I gasped at some of the five-inch-thick tomes. I started to walk down the row closest to me, craning my neck to catch a glimpse of the titles at the top. I continuously stopped so that I could examine the books on my left and then my right. Every so often, I would hear a noise, but nothing would stop me- I was in paradise.

After perhaps half an hour, I turned a corner and gasped, covering my mouth so that I wouldn't squeal. I had guessed this was a library, but I hadn't guessed that there would be...  
I ran my hands over the titles of various videos, video games, computer games, CDs, movies, and DVDs, but pulled my hand away when I saw a world history textbook and an atlas. I was confused, but looking past them, I had to push down a shriek of pure bliss when I caught sight of the mangas, the graphic novels, and the comic books. Half of my mind wondered what the textbook and the atlas were doing in this aisle-they were obviously out of place-but I was totally distracted with possibly my favorite types of books. I tried to read all of the names at once, pulling them off of the shelf if they looking intriguing, carefully placing them back if they weren't. Within a minute or so, I had about a foot-high pile of books, varying from mystery to realistic fiction to fantasy (though mostly fantasy). Excitedly I searched for something to carry the pile, and was rewarded when I found a wheelbarrow, innocently standing inside a storage closet. Briefly I wondered why it was open, but was soon settled comfortably on the bean-bag chair, devouring book after book. After maybe an hour or two, I wondered what time it was, but couldn't stop. I readjusted my position and continued Azumanga Daioh.  
Later I woke, rubbing my eyes and temporarily confused about my surroundings. When I remembered, I looked down to find a blanket draped over me, and my book closed on the small table next to me with a bookmark in it. This was possibly the first time since I entered the library that I **stopped** to think. When I did this, several things occurred to me. 1) I did not know what time it was(this happens frequently when I read), 2) the door to the library was now closed and seemingly invisible, 3) nobody knew that I was in here, 4) the lights were definitely not as bright as before, and 5)I was not alone. The signs had all been there before, but I had gotten caught up in the moment. ^  
I rose, the blanket falling from my legs. "Who's th-there?" I tried to sound unafraid, and cursed myself when I stuttered.  
"I don't suppose you can see me, either." A sudden voice directly to my right made me jump almost a foot. The voice itself wasnt scary or anything; in fact, it was hardly audible, and if anything, sad. The thing that surprised me the most was that it had appeared to come from thin air. I landed, and promptly fell over, thankfully on the beanbag chair. As I caught my breath, I glanced over at where the voice came from. I hadn't noticed before, but know as I looked carefully, I saw the outline of a human shape. It was not very pronounced, so it was easy to see why I hadn't seen before. The boy sighed. I was sure it was a boy, maybe 12-14 years old. His voice was not yet deep and husky, but was not a child's high-pitched squeak, either. "I suppose you want to know why you can't see me," the boy said gloomily. I had opened my mouth, but as he had spoken my thoughts, I closed it and nodded. "But," I put in, "I can kind of see you." He looked up, eyes shining. It was unnerving to be able to tell that, but unable to determine his eye color. I smiled. "Maybe if you tell me what happened, I can help you," I suggested. The boy looked down at the floor and started playing with the rug. "well, I never really stood out much. My brother Alfred and I would play with the other kids our age, but he would always be the leader. He would get the bigger, more expensive toys, while I was lucky if somebody remembered me. My brother and I were twins, and sometimes he'd blame me for stuff I didn't do, and take my alibi. I would try to protest, but nobody really knew. I would get beat up sometimes by people who didn't like Alfred, thinking that I was him. If people did remember me, they would call me by the wrong name, no matter how many times I corrected them." He smirked humorlessly. "But I'm okay with being by myself. I don't get noticed, but I don't get ignored. One day, I found a door I'd never noticed before, and apparently nobody else had, either. Leave it to the invisible boy to find the invisible door, huh?" He smirked again. "So I stayed in here, deciding I'd rather just stay by myself. Nobody even noticed I had left. They might not've noticed I was there in the first place." The boy pulled his legs close to his body and put his face down on his knees.  
For a little while, we both sat silently. Then I cleared my throat. "So, what's your name?" The boy slowly lifted his head. His features were clearer now. He was wearing a light blue sweatshirt and gray sweatpants. I realized he was clutching a large PillowPet-a polar bear, which I'd never seen before. His tousled, light brown hair had a single protruding strand with a single curl in the middle. His eyes, which I could now see were a blueish-purple, and from behind his glasses I could see a new spark in his eyes-hope. "My name," he told me, "is Matthew Williams."


End file.
